


Dot's Dishevelment

by PencilNeck



Series: Trope Bingo entries [1]
Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: F/F, Pre-Femslash, Spanking, Trope Bingo Amnesty, Trope Bingo Round 6, Uniform Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-31
Updated: 2016-05-31
Packaged: 2018-07-11 10:00:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7043626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PencilNeck/pseuds/PencilNeck
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for Trope Bingo. I overreached and missed the deadline, but i'm posting what I did finish for the amnesty.</p><p>Phryne and Mac are just perverts mostly. ;)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dot's Dishevelment

**Author's Note:**

> Phryne is pronounced Fry-Knee. the show takes place in Australia, and it's a gem. If you haven't seen it go binge-watch it on Netflix RIGHT NOW, and then come back and read this silly thing I wrote about it.

 

The Honorable Miss Phryne Fisher reclined indulgently on her settee, unable to hold back her mirth.  
  
“And then,” Doctor Elisabeth MacMillan, or Mac to her friends, swallowed her laughter with a sip of whiskey and fed Phryne the punchline. “Their poor father bursts in, sees the three of us together and says 'Oh thank goodness you're here Doctor! I thought my poor girls had been undone by some scoundrel!” Mac burst out with a hearty, alto laugh.  
  
“Oh, you utter cad!” Phryne kicked her leg out to punish Mac's shin. “The continent won't recover from you, I'm afraid.”  
  
“You've got your share of salacious stories, Phryne!” Mac swilled her drink to emphasize her point. “That lovely newlywed couple on the voyage from London comes to mind.” She accused with a raised brow.  
  
“Nonsense!” Phryne waved the insinuation away with a smirk and a lit cigarette. “They were a darling pair. Nothing untoward about it.”

“I'm sure.” Mac rolled her eyes. “What of the Jazz pianist? The Countess? The gigolo in Milan? Or those twins in Paris! I know you had them both.”  
  
“Not at the same time!” Phryne pretended at shock. “Sasha was lovely, but I found I preferred the company of his sister, that's all.”  
  
“Alright, you win.” Mac leaned back to enjoy the remainder of her whiskey. “You are a paragon of virtue.”

“Thank you, Mac.” Phryne smiled, pleased with herself.  
  
“Miss?” Dot's high sparkling voice intruded on the atmosphere.  
  
“In the drawing room, Dot.” Phryne smiled, anticipating Dot's brief look of disapproval at the behavior of her employer. The door creaked open, and Dot peeked her head in. As expected, Dot's eyes roved across the room, taking in the drink and the smoke, Dr. Mac's proximity to Phryne's lightly dressed and reclined body on the settee. The frown on her face was brief, and just as with every other time, Phryne marveled at the girl's ability to school her features. It was a useful skill, especially in their line of business.  
  
“Miss? I was collecting for the rummage sale, and look what I found!” Dot enters the room, arms out to present herself in her old maid's uniform from her previous job. “It's a bit tight across the shoulders, but I think it'd clean up lovely for someone else, don't you Miss?”  
  
A bit tight around the shoulders was an understatement. When Dot had first come to work for Phryne, she'd been barely out of her teens, scrawny and undernourished. Now, after two years of being encouraged to partake of all sorts of indulgences usually reserved for the wealthy, Dot's figure had filled out in some strategically advantageous areas, two of which were currently spilling out the top of the formerly demure frock.  
  
“Where...” Phryne cleared her throat, fluttering her hand across her chest. “Where on earth did you find that?”  
  
“It was the funniest thing!” Dot swished the skirt of the dress, unknowingly showing off her bare legs. “I was tidying up the spare room and thought I might clear the cupboard out. Save me time in the spring, you see? Anyway, this old thing was tucked in the back of the bottom drawer, like someone was trying to hide it!” Dot pulled at her neckline, trying to stop the edge from biting into her. “I thought for sure this had gone to the ladies' home.”

“As did I, Dot.” Phryne took a long drag of her cigarette, avoiding Mac's mirthful gaze. She steeled herself, and put on an air of nonchalance. “Well, you look enchanting as always, but I'm sure you want to be rid of that thing. So many bad memories attached to it and whatnot.”

“Not really, Miss.” Dot's gaze left her skirt and settled on Phryne's face. She smiled in her earnest, naive way. “This dress reminds me of the day I first came to you. That was the best day of my life, Miss.”

“I would have thought the opposite, having been fired without cause and accused of murder in the morning.” Phryne poured herself another drink. It was well past five o'clock somewhere.  
  
“Yes, Miss.” Dot looked away, at a loss for words. Her cheeks blushed a flattering shade of pink. She rushed out whatever words came to mind. “But if I'd not been through that in the morning, I wouldn't have come to you in the afternoon, and you wouldn't have offered me a position, and I wouldn't have had all these adventures, and I'd still be afraid of the telephone, Miss.”  
  
“That is true.” Mac interjected, deciding to save her friend from any more awkwardness. Although it was delicious to see Phryne's control waver. “I recall you didn't much care for electronic devices.”

“I still don't, Doctor.” Dot shrugged. “But if ladies such as yourselves can manage to drive cars , fly planes, and operate on people and solve murders, I can manage to answer the telephone.”  
  
“Well said, Dot!” Mac clapped her hands in a little ovation. “We'll make a suffragette out of you yet!”

“That's unlikely, Doctor.” Dot refuted with another, deeper blush. “I am still Catholic, you see.”

“A pity.” Mac raised her glass. “But a toast to your bravery!”

“Oh we must!” Phryne never gave up a chance to toast. And she needed a distraction at that moment more than she needed propriety. “Let me pour you a glass of champagne. I know you can't manage anything more, dear.”  
  
“Oh, alright. I suppose one glass...” Dot slid into the lounge chair, still to this day astounded by her employer's generosity and kindness. Most employers took a 'seen and not heard' policy to their staff, and some even wanted the staff to scurry around them to avoid proving their existence at all. But here was Phryne Fisher, a titled, wealthy woman of the world, and she always invited Dot into her dangerous schemes and her social obligations. And Mac, she was so wonderfully confident. One of the first women doctors in Melbourne, and brash enough to wear men's clothes every day and get away with it!

“Here you are, darling.” Phryne handed her a flute, filled almost to the brim with golden sparking liquid. Dot nodded her thanks and took a tiny sip, just to keep the contents from spilling over the edge.  
  
“To Dot!” Mac raised her tumbler of whiskey, recently refreshed. “It's been a genuine pleasure witnessing you come into yourself.”

“Hear, Hear!” Phryne's smile positively gleamed with affection. “You are a constant surprise, Dot. Just the way I like my people.” She finished with a wink.  
  
“Thank you, Miss. Thank you, Doctor.” Dot raised her glass and heard the song of crystal meeting crystal. “But I toast to you both, as it's not becoming to toast to one's self, I don't think.”

“Ah! But if we don't toast ourselves, who will?” Phryne jested. She raised her glass once more. “To me! I am superbly wonderful and very fetching, if I do say so myself.”

“And to me!” Mac added with a snort. “I'm a damn good surgeon!”

“Well then,” Dot took a last sip, and then put down the glass, still half full. “If our little celebration is over, I have to get back to work.”  
  
“Of course.” Phryne put down her glass. “Don't let our foolishness interrupt your good works, Dot. In fact, I shall go upstairs shortly and see if I can part with any of my own rags.”  
  
“That would be wonderful, Miss!” Dot's face lighted up. “With some of your beautiful things in the sale, we'll get half of Melbourne out to the church!” And with that, she rushed out of the room.  
  
“God have mercy!” Phryne exhaled as the door slammed shut.  
  
“I never understood your penchant for the maid's uniform.” Mac shook her head. “All that billowing and fabric flowing everywhere. Hides all the wonderful things underneath.”  
  
“I don't know!” Phryne fanned herself with a party invitation she'd forgotten to throw out. “I never gave it much thought.”

“Well, the jig is up, mate.” Mac stretched her arms, feeling the pull in her back and shoulders. “Now, I'll tell you something for free. I didn't believe it until I saw it myself, but the Melbourne police has hired on a few women! And that's a uniform, let me tell you!”

“Really?” Phryne considered it in her imagination. It most definitely had promise. “I may have to look into that.”

“I thought you might.” Mac put on her hat and shrugged into her overcoat. “I'll stop in after noon. I have a kidney operation in the morning.”  
  
“I'm starting to believe that's code for something else, Mac.” Phryne smiled deviously. “You do an awful lot of kidney operations. I'm surprised you haven't operated on all the women in Melbourne by now.”

“So am I, Phryne.” Mac tipped her hat with a wink, then leaned in to kiss Phryne's cheek just at the edge of her lips. “So am I.”  
  
Phryne laughed and shut the door as Mac hopped into her car and drove into Melbourne's lamp-lit night.

 

* * *

 

 

“Bring her into the dining room!” Mac ordered the two sturdy men. Burt and Cec, two rough and warmhearted cab drivers that Phryne had adopted and learned to trust over years of perilous situations, sat the woman's body down on the table as Mac cleared away the settings to the floor.  
  
“Burt, I need you to take Phryne's bag to the police station. Get that Detective over to the docks and tell him what happened.” Mac gave her orders. “Cec, I'll need a knife, long and sharp.”  
  
“What's going on?” Dot rushed down the stairs, still in her nightdress. “I heard a commotion... Oh Doctor, is that Miss Fisher?” She rushed into the room, her instinct to comfort entirely misplaced. “Is she... Is she?”

“She's alive.” Mac rolled up her sleeves. “But unless I can get that bullet out and stop the poison, she won't be for long.” She patted Dot's hand sharply. “I need you to be brave.” Off Dot's vague nod, she continued. “I need water, towels, and alcohol. Vodka or gin if you have it. Whatever's strongest if you don't.”  
  
“How on earth did Miss Fisher get shot and poisoned at the same time?” Cec came back with a handful of kitchen knives. “I didn't know what you'd need, but they're all sharp as razors.”

“Thank you, Cec.” Mac took the instruments and laid them out on the table beside Phryne's unconscious body.  
  
“I have towels!” Dot rushed back in, carrying a large stack of fluffy, expensive towels. “Cec, there's a large basin of hot water in the kitchen. I can't lift it.”  
  
“Say no more.” Cec tipped his cap and sped off.  
  
Dot dropped the towels, ran to drawing room and grabbed three full bottles of clear alcohol. Breathlessly she ran back into the dining room, where Mac was just starting to expose the wound. Cec has already been and gone, as the basin of water sat on the table by Phryne's head, a bar of soap drowned at the bottom.  
  
“Alright, Dot.” Mac didn't look up, but kept talking. “Now comes the hard part. I need you to be my nurse. Hold what I tell you to hold. Mop up what I tell you to mop up, and wipe my damn forehead every once in a while, and we may just see Phryne on her feet again.”  
  
“I'm not very good with blood.” Dot admitted, but even still she walked closer to the table. “But I can do it.” She swallowed.  
  
“I know you can.” Mac threw a towel at her. “Now wash your hands and don't vomit in my operating theatre.”  
  
“Yes, Doctor.” Dot nodded, and grabbed the soap.

 

* * *

 

Dot hovered and fretted, wringing her hands and pulling at her skirts, pacing the length of the hallway that led to Phryne's bedroom. It had been two long days of fever to chills to delirium to exhaustion. Dot's nerves were wearing thin from worrying about her employer. The bullet had been removed, and most of the poison purged from Phryne's system, but Phryne still had a battle to fight against infection and blood loss.  
  
Every day with Miss Fisher seemed to push Dot to the edge. She'd gone from a timid little mouse, to... well, a house cat at least. She perhaps wasn't ferocious or cunning like Miss Fisher, or decisive and masterful like the Doctor, but she was _more_ because of them, she knew that much. And if she lost Miss Fisher, she would be lost herself. Not the fact of being turned out of the house she lived in, or having to find new employment. Even the grief of losing her friend, although painful, would abide with time. But this life, the dangerous, exciting, addicting life that Miss Fisher introduced her to, would be closed to her forever.  
  
Dot controlled herself. No tears. No wailing. Phryne would be aghast to know that Dot had been distraught on her account, so Dot kept it in. She would be brave, at least until Phryne was herself again. Then perhaps she might allow herself a little cry in private.  
  
The door to Phryne's room opened, and Mac gestured for Dot to enter.  
  
“How are you feeling today, Miss?” Dot asked gently.  
  
“I am bristling with energy, Dot, and have no way to expel it, as I am apparently confined to my bed.” Phryne pouted in her bed. “It is quite maddening.”  
  
“Well, you certainly sound a lot better than yesterday.” Dot sighed with relief. “Did you want something to eat, Miss? Or some tea?”

“What I want is for you to finally agree to call me Phryne.” The invalid pursed her lips. “It's been years, and you still call me Miss. It's infuriating.”

“It's something.” Mac smirked, then held up her hands at Phryne's glare.  
  
“It's disrespectful, Miss.” Dot sat on the edge of the bed. “Not for me, or for you. It's for them.” She took Phryne's fingers in the palm of her hand. “If people heard me call you by name, you would be ridiculed. They may make insinuations. Say I'm reaching above my station and you can't manage your staff. I won't be party to it, Miss.” She finished deliberately.  
  
“I see.” Phryne looked at Dot's hand caressing her fingers. “That's very thoughtful of you. But what about now, in safe company?”  
  
“Oh, I couldn't manage the deception!” Dot blushed, admitting a failure to her employer was always difficult, as she was of the mind that Miss Fisher could, and would, do anything. “To go from calling you Miss, or Miss Fisher in public, to Phryne in private? I'm sure I'd make a mess of it!”  
  
“I'm sure you would manage perfectly, as you always do, Dot.' Phryne caressed Dot's palm with her thumb, enjoying the way her name sounded in Dot's deeply Australian accent. “But have it your way. For now.”  
  
“Thanks.” Dot smiled, just a little. “Miss.”  
  
“Well, now you're just having me on.” Phryne laughed.  
  
“Serves you right for scaring us all like that.” Dot admonished.  
  
“Indeed it does.” Mac intervened. “Now, I think Phryne needs to rest for a while. Can you bring us a light lunch in an hour, Dot?”  
  
“Of course.” Dot bowed and made to leave the room.

 

* * *

 

 

Phryne recovered, slowly but surely. Within a week she was lounging on her settee once more, although not by choice and most definitely not in merriment. The change of scenery from the bedroom was a relief, however. And she could finally smoke again! Bliss!  
  
All she needed was a new case to try her mind and engage her senses. That would allow her to wriggle out of this fog she'd been in, although the morphine that Mac prescribed for the pain may be responsible for a large part of it.  
  
“Oh Miss!” Dot came in, holding a tea tray laden with sandwiches and cakes and a large pot of wonderful smelling brew. “I'm so sorry! I had an awful time at the markets this morning, and it's set off my entire schedule.”  
  
“No need to worry, Dot.” Phryne made room on the low table for the tray as Dot set it down. “Now, come join me. I am starved for company as well as tea.”  
  
“Of course.” Dot sat down, pulling her skirts under her. “Doctor MacMillan said she might drop by, so I've made a bit extra just in case.”  
  
“How thoughtful.” Phryne noticed Dot's blush at Mac's name. “You two must have become closer during my convalescence?”

“I don't know about that, but I do admire her.” Dot looked up from making the tea. “She saved your life, after all.”  
  
“I heard that you were instrumental to Mac's success in that endeavor.” Phryne said casually, most definitely not imagining Dot in a nurse's uniform. “Perhaps you missed your calling?”  
  
“No thank you.” Dot shook her head. “I admit, it was exhilarating. I've always been faint around blood and such, but I carried it off. I didn't think I would, and I did! But oh, I'd never want to do it again!”  
  
“Excellent! Because I have no intention of letting you go off saving lives when you could be here with me, making the best pot of Oolong I've ever had!” Phryne took a sip and shivered with pleasure.  
  
“I'm glad to hear it, Miss.” Dot smiles down into her cup. “I wouldn't want to be anywhere else.”

“Then it's settled.” Phryne sets her cup down and stretches out her hand. Dot giggled and shook it weakly before retrieving her hand. “We're stuck with each other.”  
  
The knock on the door interrupted Dot's response.  
  
“That will probably be Doctor MacMillan.” Dot stood.  
  
“She must join us immediately!” Phryne announced. “I require heaps of attention and sympathy!”

Dot returned moments later with the dashing doctor.

“Lovely spread, Dot.” Mac sat down and helped herself to some cakes. Dot poured her a cup of tea. “It's been a hell of a day.” She gulped down the whole cup, and handed it back to Dot for a refill. “But, if you're up for it, I may have a case for you.”

“Oh really?” Phryne perked up instantly.  
  
“Mmm.” Mac ravaged the cakes on her plate and gestured to Dot for the plate of sandwiches. “There was an incident in the tannery, and we got a couple of their women on our tables. One's recovering in the wards, and the other's likely for the coroner by morning.”

“That's terrible!” Phryne's face lost her grin immediately. “Do you know what happened?”  
  
“Not enough.” Mac sighed. “Something feels off about it. The foreman who brought the women to the hospital, I didn't like the way he talked, like they were already dead. Or that it might be preferred if they ended up that way.”

“Curious.” Phryne locked her hands around her glass, pondering.  
  
“Indeed.” Mac tapped her fingers against the arm of her chair.

“Well, it seems I must travel to the hospital tomorrow to see my personal physician.” Phryne held in her excitement, as it was in poor taste considering the circumstances. “I have been very ill of late, you see.”  
  
“Come in the afternoon.” Mac grinned. “I'll set aside some time after lunch.”  
  
“Nonsense.” Phryne waved off her suggestion. “I shall arrive with lunch, and then we shall begin to settle this business.”  
  


 

* * *

 

 

“Phryne, come in before you hurt yourself.” Mac waved her friend through the heavy oak door into her office. “I thought you'd have Dot with you.”  
  
“She is otherwise engaged today.” Phryne hefted the lunch basket on to the only cleared spot on Mac's desk. “Apparently young Mr. Collins has worked up the courage to ask for her company. They are having lunch with his sister, and then a stroll through the park, if I heard correctly.”

“Oh lord.” Mac rolled her eyes, setting some plates out where she could. “How could our girl find someone more doe-eyed than her, I wonder?”  
  
“They are a most wholesome pair.” Phryne muttered. “It makes me want to muss them up somehow.”

“Phryne!” Mac laughed. “You're terrible!”

“I know!” Phryne laughed along. “But it's an instinct I haven't been able to curb. Dot is much too pristine, and I am drawn to the idea of disheveling her.”

“Oh my!” Mac exclaimed. “And how do you envisage this disheveling?”  
  
“I've no idea! I am just tempted to do something to pull her out of this fairy tale she seems to live in.” Phryne poured herself a glass of wine, a deep expensive red that she'd brought along to pair with the roast beef Dot had prepared for them. “Oh Mac, am I really so worldly and cynical?”  
  
“Absolutely.” Mac took the bottle as Phryne drowned her thoughts in red. “And so am I. Dot is young and distressingly Catholic. She may in time grow a harder shell. And won't that be a pity.”

“An absolute tragedy, in fact.” Phryne took a few slices of roast beef to her plate. “I don't know what I'm saying, Mac. I must be delirious from starvation and exertion.”

“Well then you've come to the right place.” Mac speared some meat on her fork and dipped it in the fresh horseradish. “I happen to be a pretty damn good doctor.”  
  
“You don't say?” Phryne batted her eyes, and they got down to the business at hand.

After a deeply satisfying lunch, Mac escorted Phryne to the wards, where a convalescing young woman may have some answers.  
  
“Honestly darling.” Phryne whispered, eyes agog. “I don't know how you do any work at all!” She flitted from the nurses to the nuns, eyes wandering up and down the costumes being worn by the multitude of women working in the hospital.

“I find that impending death and suffering tends to curb my enchantment with the female form, if only for a brief time.” Mac admitted. “And I'm not quite as enchanted by the specifics of a woman's professional dress, as you seem to be.”  
  
“Oh, it's not only women.” Phryne muttered. “Men can be quite captivating in a police or military uniform. All those polished buttons...”  
  
“Come now, back down to earth.” Mac pulled Phryne into a small room, occupied by four women in various states of health. She brought Phryne to stand at the edge of one of the beds, and quietly made the introductions. “Miss Jemma Saunders, may I introduce the Honorable Phryne Fisher, Lady Detective.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Give it here!” Burt smacked Cec on the shoulder, reaching for the packet. The two men, usually best mates, squared off in the kitchen, having come in through the back entrance.  
  
“Nah, mate.” Cec held it high, popping Burt on the arm with his free hand. “You've had it with these.”

“Listen up.” Burt wagged his finger. “I don't wanna hafta rough you up, but I will!”

“I'd like to see you try!” Cec laughed, which only riled Burt more. “You promised yer mam, no more gambling.”

“An' I ain't.” Burt hopped up to extend his reach, still short about a foot. “These is me slips from last week!”

“Not bloody likely!” Cec pushed Burt away. Burt lost his balance and tumbled down, his back hitting the table and knocking the day's work in the kitchen on to the floor.  
  
“Aw, now look what ye've dun!” Burt got back to his feet, red faced and fists clenched. “Dot's gonna have your head!”

“It was you what did it, you clumsy great oaf!” Cec tucked the packet in his shirt, and smacked Burt upside the face, ready to rumble.  
  
“Oh, now you're in it, mate!” Burt rolled up his sleeves and wound up for a cracking right hook.  
  
“ENOUGH!”

Burt and Cec turned to see a livid Dot standing in the ruins of her kitchen. They took off their caps and held their heads down, looking for all the world like two boys caught stealing apples.  
  
“Get out of my kitchen.” Dot kept her eyes on the flattened pie, focusing on that and ignoring the rest of the destruction.  
  
“We din't mean it, Dottie!” Burt pleaded. “It's just that...”  
  
“I'm sure.” Dot sat at the large table, trembling with anger and frustration. “And while you two go outside and sort out your differences like the wild dogs you are, I am going to have to go back to the market and re-do the shopping so that I can come back here and re-make the lot of this,” She gestured to the cornucopia of delights all over the floor. “tonight, so I can be at the Church rummage sale tomorrow, as I promised them weeks ago. So please, leave. And don't expect to come begging for scraps later this evening. I don't feed animals.”  
  
Burt and Cec retreated out the back door, and Dot steadied herself with the task of making a cup of tea. While the kettle boiled, she cleaned the kitchen. When the kettle started to whistle, she made the tea to her exacting standards, and allowed herself the brief luxury of a few moment's rest.  
  
“Oh, Dot!” Phryne came barreling into the kitchen not two minutes later. “Have you seen my green silk wrap? I cannot for the life of me find it anywhere!”

“It's in your wardrobe, Miss.” Dot cleared her throat to empty it of bile. “Hanging just at the end, between the chemise and the long blue dress.”

“You are a wonder, Dot!” Phryne swept out of the room again, motioning for Dot to follow. “I have just been invited to dine with the Mayor's wife. Short notice, but I suppose she can be forgiven the breach of etiquette this time. I think you should wear the pearl dress. I know it's a bit risque for your tastes, but I have it on great authority that you shan't be damned for all eternity for showing off your wonderful figure just a little. I'll lend you my long string of pearls and the diamond choker...”

“Miss, as much as I'd love to accompany you, I have to finish my duties this evening to be available for the rummage sale tomorrow.” She finished with a sigh, having followed Phryne into her bedroom. She moved to the wardrobe and withdrew the green silk wrap and the shimmering turquoise dress with the scandalous neckline and cut-out back, knowing instinctively what Phryne would want to wear.  
  
“That's very unlike you, Dot.” Phryne turned to face Dot in the mirror, shucking off her robe and lounge wear as she spoke. “Is everything alright?”

“Everything's fine.” Dot turned away quickly, used to her employers lack of modesty. “Burt and Cec managed to undo my afternoon's work is all, so I've got to remake tomorrow's luncheon.”  
  
“Nonsense!” Phryne exclaimed. “I require you to accompany me this evening, and Burt and Cec can remedy the issue of tomorrow's luncheon by retrieving whatever my little heart desires at the time!”

“That's very kind, Miss.” Dot looked up, accidentally catching Phryne in the middle of trying on a set of shocking underthings.  
  
“It's nothing of the sort.” Phryne looked at herself in the full length mirror. Acceptable. “Hand me that dress? It's not kindness to relieve you from suffering for another's clumsiness. It's just good sense. Also, it's selfish of me. I know how these society things tire you out, but I insist on your company nonetheless!” Phryne grinned. “I am, in fact, a demanding ogre of a boss! Now, the pearl dress... where is it?”

“In the spare room closet.” Dot smiled. “I'll go fetch it now.”

“Don't be long!” Phryne called after her. “I am an utter mess without your assistance!”

“I know, Miss!” Dot giggled at her own daring and ran to the spare room.

Phryne's jaw dropped. Wonders would never cease.

 

* * *

 

 

 

“I enjoyed that party, Miss.” Dot blinked up at Phryne as she was shuffled off to Mac's shoulder. “It may have been my favorite party, of... of all the parties.”

“I don't know what's come over you, Dot.” Phryne opened the door and let the three of them in, returning her arm across Dot's back.  
  
“I think it was the champagne.” Mac deadpanned. “And the aperitif, and the two cocktails...”  
  
“Oh, poor poor Dot!” Phryne rested Dot's head gently on her softest silk throw pillow as Mac took off Dot's borrowed shoes and put her up on the settee. “What on earth brought you to this?”  
  
“See, Miss.” Dot began, her face serious. “I work very hard.”  
  
“Of course you do.” Phryne patted her hand.

“It's very important that I do my best.” Dot added, working to pronounce the words properly. “Because you deserve the best. And Mac.”

Phryne looked at Mac questioningly. Mac shrugged, ever helpful.

“I made a pie.” Dot's face crumpled into despair. “A lovely pie. And they ruined it.”

“What on earth...” Mac poured herself a scotch. It seemed like a scotch sort of moment.

“Those boys.” Dot mumbled into Phryne's best pillow. “They deserve a good spanking, they do.”

“Do they now?” Phryne's voice changed into something soft and silky. She cleared her throat and tried to find her normal register as Mac rolled her eyes. “Why is that?”

“They ruined my work. The work I do for you!” Dot drunkenly explained. “A firm hand never did any harm to crude boys like that.”

Phryne held up her hands in surrender, having no idea what to say. She settled on an old standard. “I'll fetch some tea. It won't be as lovely as yours, but we'll make do.” She excused herself to the kitchen.  
  
Mac sipped her scotch and watched Dot fumble around on the couch, more or less resigned to ensuring Dot didn't fidget her way to the floor or start regurgitating her dinner. Upon Phryne's return with a tea tray, Mac set her drink down and helped serve.

“There now.” Phryne poured Dot a cup, adding two sugars and a helping of milk. “Drink up and then off to bed with you.”

Phryne helped Dot sit up and take in a bit of the over-sweet tea.

“You're too kind, Miss Fisher.” Dot looked up at her employer through her eyelashes, her cheeks rosy with alcohol and her mind clouded by feelings she had no proper way to express.  
  
“I'm Catholic.” She tried.

“I know, Dot.” Phryne tipped a drop more tea down Dot's throat.

“I'm supposed to forgive.” Dot continued. “I'm supposed to turn the other cheek.”

“Which cheek is that?” Mac entertained herself. She made a face at Phryne's glare.

“As many as it takes, Doctor.” Dot answered by rote. “But I'm still so angry, even though you fixed everything, Miss Fisher!”

“Would you like me to extract a harsher punishment?” Phryne did not listen to the words as she spoke them. “Was I too lenient?”

“Always, Miss.” Dot smiled. “But for the most part I adore that about you.”

“I can't do anything about it until I know what you want.” Phryne took Dot's hand in hers. “Dot, you must be very distraught to have acted how you did this evening. I have never known you to drink more than half a glass of anything.”  
  
“A good Catholic girl shouldn't drink, Miss.” Dot reached for her tea and took a good hearty swallow. “I just felt... reckless... this evening.”

“Hmmm.” Phryne frowned. Reckless was not a word she had ever associated with Dot, not in the two and a half years they'd been together. Dot was, in everything, cautious and mindful. “Alright. We'll finish this conversation later. Finish your tea and off to bed with you.”

“Yes, Miss.” Dot agreed, as she did to most everything.  
  
After they'd gotten Dot safely ensconced under her covers, Mac and Phryne sat in the sitting room adjoining Phryne's bedroom, and had a nightcap.  
  
“That girl will be the death of me.” Phryne sagged into her chaise, scotch in hand.  
  
“Only because you are so irredeemably deviant.” Mac raised her glass in recognition of a kindred spirit. “That girl is as fresh as the fallen snow.”

“I know.” Phryne sipped her drink. “And until this evening I would have said 'More's the pity', but now that I've seen Dot...”

“Disheveled?” Mac offered.  
  
“Disheveled.” Phryne took the word wryly. “I never want to see her that in that state again.”

“Agreed.” Mac pronounced. “My world tilted on it's axis this evening.”  
  
“As I'm sure it did Dot's.” Phryne sighed, shrugging off her gown and crawling into her lavish bed. “Anyway, I'm beat. Are you staying the night?”

“And miss out on all the morning self recrimination?” Mac unbuttoned her vest and set it on the chair. “I wouldn't dream of it.”

“Come on then.” Phryne shuffled over to make some room. “I can't be bothered to set up the guest room.”

“I don't know.” Mac pretended to worry. “I've heard things about you, Miss Fisher.”

“All lies and scandal, I'm sure.” Phryne rolled dramatically over, setting the back of her hand on her forehead. “Your virtue is safe for the evening, Doctor.”

Mac stripped to her underthings and set herself up comfortably on the left side of the bed. She quickly leaned up to kiss Phryne's cheek, and set herself back down at an acceptable distance.

“We'll have champagne for breakfast, I think.” Phryne mumbled.  
  
“Of course we will.” Mac huffed out her agreement.

 

* * *

 

Mac dragged a reluctant Phryne out of bed at around eleven, and they leisurely prepared for the day. They were finally ready to leave the house at around two in the afternoon, and they made their way to the cathedral, where Dot had made them promise to make an appearance at her rummage sale.  
  
When they arrived, the grounds of the church were swarming with bargain hunters and church supporters and the usual gawkers. Dot saw them immediately and waved them over to where she was manning the tea cart.

“Oh there you are!” Dot smiled at her companions, and offered them a cup each. Phryne accepted for herself and for Mac, who had then taken her cup, greeted Dot warmly and then wandered off in search of treasure.  
  
“Miss, I feel I must apologize...”  
  
“You'll do no such thing.” Phryne dismissed her apology with a hand. “Everyone has bad days, Dot. Even you. We'll come up with a suitably unpleasant task for Burt and Cec, and you'll feel much better about the whole thing.”  
  
“Oh, no. Please don't.” Dot replied. “I don't know why I let it bother me so much. It seems silly now. It was just a pie. And the boys didn't mean it. They just lost their heads.”  
  
“Right. And they'll pay for the lost food out of their wages, I think.” Phryne dug deep for that small bit of disciplinarian within her. “And you'll get an extra afternoon off this week, paid.”

“That's not necessary, Miss.” Dot blushed. “I couldn't take advantage...”

“No, no. you were right before.” Phryne smiled. “It is sometimes necessary to take a firmer hand.”

“Well.” Dot looked away and cleared her throat. “Oh, there's Constable Collins! Isn't he handsome in his uniform?”  
  
Constable Hugh Collins shuffled toward the tea table, trying to look hardened and dignified, as he felt an officer of the law ought to look. Unfortunately, Hugh had been blessed with a cherub's face and wide, unassuming blue eyes. The closest he could get to dignified was vaguely uncomfortable, and that was what he was demonstrating at the moment. Although, Phryne did admit that he filled out his uniform quite nicely, for a cherub.  
  
“Hello, Dottie.” Hugh addressed the tablecloth. “Miss Fisher.”

“Dot, I'll leave you in the Constable's capable hands.” Phryne saw her opportunity to leave and took it. “I'll endeavor to purchase something extravagant, to further your cause. Hopefully it won't be something that came from my own closet in the first place.”

Phryne set her cup down and swiftly made her exit before she could overhear any of Hugh's stammering overtures and Dot's equally mild flirting. She was happy for Dot, obviously. Hugh was fairly the only decent man she'd met in Melbourne, aside from the Detective Inspector and her two drivers, and Dot could do much worse than a well meaning, earnest fellow like Hugh.  
  
It was just so saccharine, so unlike anything Phryne herself had experienced. Even her first foray into romance, at a shockingly young age, had been less unsteady that those two, who loved like colts newly born, staggering around on unsure footing. Perhaps her urges were merely an attempt to help Dot find her feet, not some sinister desire to corrupt the innocent.  
  
Well, perhaps it was a bit of both, she conceded as a nun walked past and Phryne's heart fluttered. She needed a distraction and fast.

“Come on then!” Mac appeared from behind her, carrying a package under her arm. “I've had it with this bunch, and I'd love a drink.”

“What did you manage to find amongst all this tat?” Phryne took the package when offered to her and delicately opened it at the top. She gasped, and sputtered out an accusation with her breath. “You didn't!”

“Oh, I most certainly did!” Mac laughed.

 

* * *

 

 

Phryne fastened the last stubborn button and set the hairpiece into her thick black locks. She swept the wrinkles out of the skirt as best she could with her hands, and looked at herself in the mirror.  
  
Dot's old uniform fit Phryne fairly well. It was much too short, as Phryne was a half head taller than Dot before putting on heels. But it suited her purposes.  
  
She left the attic room, and slowly made her way down the stairs.  
  
“Miss Fisher!” An authoritative voice called out from the large den. “Come in for a moment, please.”

Phryne stepped into the masculine room, smelling oak and leather and expensive liquor. She bowed her head, an excellent mimic of servility.  
  
“I have heard rumours about you, Miss Fisher.” Mac turned in her chair, swirling a glass of scotch in one hand and a cigarette in the other. “Very distressing rumors about the kind of people you associate with. Degenerates. Thieves. Communists.” Mac shook her head. “I hope you can appreciate what this sort of scandal would do to my reputation.”  
  
Phryne nodded.  
  
“I don't want to dismiss you.” Mac stifled a grin, trying to keep character. “But I'm afraid...” Mac sighed, and pulled out a thick wooden paddle. “You will have to be punished.”

Phryne smothered the wicked smile trying to escape via her lips, and set her face in a demure and placid mask. She took a breath, and meekly answered.  
  
“Yes, Miss.”

 

END  
  
  


  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


 

 


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